


What We Became - What Still Remains

by AllMyBellarkeFeels



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15209369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllMyBellarkeFeels/pseuds/AllMyBellarkeFeels
Summary: In the wake of Praimfaya things have changed. But, for Clarke, she will always remember. She will always be waiting for them to come home. For.... him to come home. Bellamy.





	What We Became - What Still Remains

            3 Days Since Praimfaya - Clarke

            Everything hurts. Her head hurt. Her whole body hurt. Every breath felt like fire burning her lungs. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. Even her eyes hurt. They felt cemented shut. Was she dead? No. Death shouldn’t hurt this much. Did she want to die? No. She didn’t risk everything for Bellamy, Raven, and the others just to give up and die now. She had to fight.

            With a force she didn’t know her broken body possessed, she tried to expel the radiation coursing through her veins; she was dry heaving so hard she was afraid she would start convulsing. Once the attack subsided she could feel every cell in her body screaming. Groaning, Clarke forced her swollen eyes to open. A layer of dried blood and dust cracking with them. Everything was black. _Shit. I’m blind._ _Shit. Shit. Shit._ Her eyes must have been burned too badly by the radiation. She will most definitely die without her eyes. She won’t be able to make it out of the lab if she can’t see anything. She doesn’t know the lab well enough by memory. Panicking, her heart tried to race, but that made her body hurt more. Her tear ducts pricked, trying to send liquid spilling down her burnt face. But, no relief came. The tearless cry made way to a soundless sob. She couldn’t get enough air into her scorched lungs. Her panic attack was suffocating her.

            When she was about to give up all hope, there was a flash of red to her right. Her next sob stuck in her throat. She _saw_ a flash of red. The rational side of her brain told her that it didn’t mean she could see, that it was probably blood vessels in her eyes bursting or some other horrible possibility. She was dying. But, that didn’t stop her from hoping beyond hope that maybe her eyes were actually okay, that she could _see_. That maybe she could actually survive this. Without eyes, she is most definitely dead. With eyes; well that gives her a chance. It may be small, but she’ll take it.

            A flash of red again. She turned her head to find the source, moaning from the effort. Every muscle screamed in protest. Her eyes locked onto an emergency light flashing roughly fifteen feet from where she lay. The longer she focused on the light, the more things came into focus, and with that a sound foundation of hope to keep her fighting. She had to get up, had to find water. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious on the floor of the lab, but if the screaming coming from every cell in her body was an indicator, the fog clouding her brain, she didn’t have long until she would die from dehydration.

            Using the dim red light as a guild, she tried to pull herself towards where she believed Becca’s office should be. A soundless scream escaped her cracked lips. The suit she was in must have melted to her skin, and when she moved, it ripped her skin along with it. She collapsed on herself gathering the mental will power to block out the pain. _Go. Go. You have to live._ The voice in her head sounded like Bellamy. It gave her strength. And so, she forged her way onward.

             It was taking way too long, way too much energy. White lights behind her eyes tried to take her, pull her down. She couldn’t let herself pass out. If she passed out again, she might not wake up. She was in the most pain she had ever experienced in her life. She nearly gave up, but with every foot gained, her spirt gained strength. She thought about Bellamy, that he would   encourage her to make it. Saying something stupid like, “ _Come on, Princess. You didn’t stay behind and save all our asses just to give up now.”_ She thought of his rare smile, the one he usually only gave to her when they were alone. The way his brown mop of hair tried to hide his fiery, chocolate eyes. How those eyes always were watching and calculating and caring too much. She thought of how the sunlight highlighted his hundreds of freckles. The dimple in his chin, the fullness of his lips.. Clarke shook her head. _Why are you thinking about his lips?_ She was so angry that she never drew a portrait of him, or the others. If she finds any paper, she’ll have to do it before the details fade, and she doesn’t remember any of them the right way. Like she did with her father... That thought was unpleasant and made her shutter. She would think about him later, when she was safe and could afford to think of the dead. So, for now, she chose to think about everyone she hoped was still alive. Focus on the living. She mainly focused on Bellamy. He made her want to live.  She knew what it meant, something she’s been avoiding for a while. She didn’t want to think about it too much. So, she started counting his freckles in her mind instead.

            Clarke was unsure how long it took her to make it to the office. The relief that she had made it renewed her waning strength. The light was even dimmer in the office, she had to rely on memory, which was difficult with the fog clouding her thoughts. Her aching body wanted to crawl to the couch and collapse into oblivion. Hell, even the plush rug would be better than the cold, hard cement floor. She had to stay focused, though. She remembered leaving a water canister on desk the last time she was in this room. When she was supposed to talk to her mother; tell her goodbye using the radio. The canister is only half full, but it’s the only option right now. There’s supplies storied in the lower levels. They couldn’t take all the supplies with them; the rocket couldn’t handle all the extra weight.  As soon as she had the strength to make it down the stairs, she could find it.

            Clarke clawed her way past the rug and the couch until her searching hands found the desk. Using the last remaining bit of energy she possessed, she pulled herself into a sitting position. She reached for the canister, only to find nothing. Despair crashed over her and she collapsed down onto the ground. Her head hit something hard and round. _The water!_ With renewed desperation she struggled to unscrew the lid. Her hands were badly burned from the radiation, but the need for water was primal, consuming her. _You are dehydrated and probably have radiation poisoning. You have to pace yourself._ The rational side of her brain coached her. But then she had it, the lid was open, and the rational side of her brain was drowned out.

            The water wouldn’t go down her swollen throat. She had to spit it all out before she drowned. _Stupid._ She cursed herself for wasting so much when she has limited resources. She needs to listen to the rational side of her brain. Once she could breathe again, she could feel the weight of everything pushing her down, and this time she couldn’t fight it. She let the darkness take her.

 

4 Days Since Praimfaya - Clarke

            Clarke woke some time later feeling worse for wear, but her mind a little less fuzzy, her body a little less broken. The water, though little she consumed, did help. She forced herself to only drink one sip of the water this time. She would need it if she wanted to make it until she could find more. The water went down a little easier this time, which made it so much harder to not drink every last drop. She made herself close the canister again. It was physically painful for her to do so.

            Instead of focusing on the water, she set to removing the burnt plastic from her flesh. She hoped that her skin hadn’t begun to heal yet and adhere to the suit even more. If that was the case, this would be far more painful, and could possibly kill her. But if she didn’t get the suit off, she’s dead anyway.

            The top came off relatively easily, she had three layers in between her and the biohazard suit. Only the pieces around her neck and back were melted to her skin. She could deal with that. It was better than her whole body. She had to rip it off like a band-aid. Each section she ripped off caused her to pass out from the pain. Suffice to say, it was slow going.

            Clarke had no idea how long it took to remove the top portion of the suit, but once she did, she allowed herself more water. _Now, the legs._ She knew that this was where the most damage was. She only had one layer separating her from the suit. She could feel it sticking to her skin, attached. She had hope that it would be easier, that maybe the act of her dragging herself to the office had pulled off enough that it wouldn’t take too much of her time. She was wasting so much time already.

            _Come on, Princess. You got this. I’m here, talk to me. Distract yourself._ Bellamy’s voice told her. She knows that it’s not a great sign that she can still hear him, but she doesn’t care. She needs the distraction.

            “Alright, Bellamy.” Her voice felt foreign to her ears. It rang in the silence around her. Made her realize just how quiet it actually was in Becca’s bunker. She coughed, trying to clear the hoarseness from her voice. “You better have made it. You better be alive. And it better be a hell of a lot better for you up there than this.” This time a tear did escape her desert eyes. She wiped it away frantically. “Nope. Not going to cry for you, Bellamy. Or any of you. You are alive. I know it. I don’t know how, but I know you’re alive.”

            _Loving the optimism. But, I’m just a figment of your imagination. You don’t know if I’m alive._

            “Just give it to me, Bellamy. Just let me believe.”

            _Okay, Princess. Whatever the hell you want._  She could hear the smirk in his voice… her mind. A pang went through her chest.

 

            Many blackouts and an insurmountable amount of pain later, she was free of the hazard suit. The last of her water gone with it. She had to move on. Had to make it down the stairs and to the containers full of her salvation.


End file.
